Belle - Thug Life
by Psycho.Kitty.EtonMess
Summary: Do you think of Belle as a girl struck down by Stockholm syndrome? In this version of events concerning Beauty and the Beast, Belle is a savvy young woman with some serious skills. Join her as she confronts the Beast and fights to save the enchanted castle.
1. Belle

Welcome to **Belle - Thug Life** where Belle is a master of the sword and making her own adventures!

DISCALIMER: I do not own the rights to Beauty and the Beast or any of the characters from the original or updated versions.

Please enjoy this parody! It's not meant to be a serious piece, just something to make you laugh.

* * *

Belle had been reading books her entire life. And, boy, you could learn some things between those covers. Her particular favourite had been entitled 'Mastery of the Sword', which most people in Rouge Mount had assumed was a work of fiction, it did have a gleaming knight in armour on the front. But when she had a spare minute, Belle had practiced her swings and lunges, before moving on to much bloodier, violent titles (and moves). In fact, she'd had to start ordering those books in secret as the people in the nearby town had started whispering about her obsession with learning how to defend herself. But when she turned sixteen, her beloved father (who encouraged Belle to learn how to fight) decided that they needed to move away from their home town in order to make sure that Belle could find a husband, without neighbours sticking their noses in where they weren't required. Not that Belle had any desire to find a husband.

Belcastel Village offered such a hideout.

But to settle her fathers mind, she changed her style and picked books that really _were_ novels for once (she found that she actually quite enjoyed them) but she made sure that her weekly subscription to Crowning Tips (it had an entire section on decorating your sword pommel) made its way to their new home. She'd only been there for a few mere hours before Gaston discovered her. Unfortunately for Gaston, Belle needed more of a real man, not some poncey, prancey twat whose only achievement in life had been to graduate to eating five dozen eggs each morning instead of four.

It was one of those mornings, where the bookstore still didn't have any new titles, where the villagers still kept their distance and when her father's (Maurice) inventions still belched smoke, that Belle awoke with a feeling that today was going to be the start of a new life for them. Although she wasn't too sure what had changed, as nothing had yet.

She dressed as the sun rose into the sky and snuck out of the village into the countryside where she could run free, dreaming of battles and sweat-drenched men who put their lives on the line without thinking about it.

Back at home she stretched and practiced her archery as well as sword-fighting – she'd only ever fought with her father for real, but she wanted to be ready when the time came, as she was sure it would eventually. As Belle washed and got ready for the new day, she looked into the far distance, to the castle that stood there with the Prince ensconced inside. The towns and villages that surrounded the castle were all under fealty to the Prince, but it was rumoured that he was a man of few words and a ferocious temper. Belle couldn't care for Gaston and his prissy ways, but neither could she summon anything but distaste for a man who growled and demanded at every turn.

Winding her way down the path into town with her basket swinging from her arm, Belle knew she looked the picture of elegance. Maurice had been clear that she needed to present a good front if she were eager for a future that held stability and in truth, it wasn't that she didn't want a family. At some point. In the far distant future. She was only eighteen for god's sake.

Walking through the marketplace was always Belle's least favourite part of the day. She greeted each person that spoke to her; Jennifer at the Bakers, George with the Fruit and Veg . . . But everyone watched her like a hawk (it had been the same way since she and her father had moved there) and then discussed her behind her back. She wasn't just a pretty face, she was a hell of a lot more and by the time she was done, Belle would prove it to them. Perhaps it was time to pull a 'Mulan' and run away to the army disguised as a boy. But that would mean leaving her father behind, and it tugged at her heart to think of him all alone. How he had managed when she had been just a girl, she didn't know and probably never would.

Her last stop was at the bookstore with Monsieur Jackaby, who always kept the newest adventure books just for her. He was the only person in the town, apart from her father, who didn't judge her for wanting more than convention and society allowed. But she was disappointed, nothing new had come in and nothing new was expected for a least a week, more than likely there wouldn't be anything in for a month. Picking up one of her favourites, Belle went to chat with Jackaby who promptly informed her that she had previously borrowed that same book five times in the last month.

'It's one of my favourites! The adventure and the romance, what more could a girl ask for!' She exclaimed.

'Then, my dear, it is all yours.' Monsieur Jackaby told her. 'The princess in the book actually reminds me of you, so it is a pleasure to give it to you.'

Belle smiled at him, amused. She identified with the prince far more than the princess, but she didn't tell Jackaby that. 'Why, thank you! I shall be certain to treasure it!'

She didn't allow the village people to get on her nerves again as she wandered back through the marketplace and stuck her nose straight into her new book. She was so engrossed that she didn't notice that Gaston was following her back to the house she shared with her father. Had she realised, things may have turned out quite differently.

She was just getting to the part where the Prince chopped off the head of a criminal that a knock at the door sounded. Belle looked up, annoyed, that part was the best bit and she hated to have started it and then be stopped. Scowling at the door she hoped whoever it was would go away.

'Oh, Belle! I know you're in there!'

Gaston. She should have known. That was the second time this week alone. How she wished she could chop his head off. Why couldn't he go and find some girl in the town who simpered over him? Couldn't he understand that no, meant no? That she wasn't interested, even in the smallest amount.

Her hand twitched towards one of the various knives she kept on her person, before she stomped over to the door.

'Hello, Gaston. What are you doing here.' She didn't phrase it as a question, she didn't want him coming in. He pushed past her anyway. Belle had a momentary daydream where she sliced him up with her knives and then pushed it aside, appearances were everything. She didn't bother to shut the door as she wanted Gaston gone as soon as possible.

'You and I,' he started as he glanced back at her, unperturbed by her scowl. 'Would be a match made in heaven. You have the beauty, I have the strength and intelligence.'

I could whip your arse blindfolded, Belle thought.

'You could give me fine young strapping boys, massage my feet, cook my dinner and I would give you a home to clean.'

Belle drew in a breath angrily. She would not stand being talked to in that way. She wasn't a piece of meat at the market, she was a living, breathing woman with dreams of her own.

Gaston went on without noticing her sharp intake of breath. 'Yes, we will be very well suited and you would be the luckiest woman in all of France with me as your husband. Let's see, perhaps we could be married as soon as August? That's a little over a month away, just time for the . . .'

Belle cut him off, anger flushing her cheeks. 'You come in here and tell me that I would be happy living as your plaything? How dare you insult me in such a fashion! Let me tell you now, Gaston, so that you are aware, I could never be satisfied as your wife, you cannot give me what I want and you will never be able to provide it. Leave this house.'

To her mounting frustration, Gaston laughed. 'Ah, Belle, you are so funny. You will do quite nicely as my wife.'

'You, Gaston, are not man enough for me and never will be.' And with that Belle strode to the door and opened it wider. 'Leave.' She ordered, anger sharpening her tone.

Gaston's smile slid off his face and he stalked past her. 'You mark my words,' he started as she started to shut the door. 'There will be consequences for your actions.' Belle shut the door in his face, undisturbed by his threat and strode out the back of the house where she began to chop at the fire wood, destroying one of her best dresses in the process. It was therapeutic, she reasoned.

During the rest of the morning and well into the afternoon her mood continued to darken and with the noises coming from her father's inventing shed, she guessed things weren't going well down there either. Changing into a pair of trews that she had made for herself and discarding the dress she had ruined, she began preparing an evening meal for herself and her father. If she didn't make sure he ate, he often forgot entirely, in fact she was sure he hadn't yet eaten today.

But he surprised her by coming up to the house without her having to fetch him, a smile stretched over his face and hugged her even though he was covered in oil.

'She's working!' He cried. 'My machine, she's ready!' Maurice danced her around the kitchen until she started laughing and her foul mood began to fade. 'There's a fair tomorrow, not far from here. If we load her up tonight, I could take her in the morning and by the evening, we'll have a contract and money up to our ears!'

'Oh, papa! You must go! You must, you must!' Maurice twirled her around the kitchen once again. 'To think, you could be a famous inventor in a few short hours.' Together they laughed until she remembered the meat that was currently burning over the fire. They chatted excitedly for the rest of the evening and Belle forgot all about Gaston's proposal as they loaded up Maurice's invention into the buggy cart.

The following morning, Belle watched as her father hitched Philippe the horse to the buggy cart and begin the long journey to the fair in one of the towns on the other side of the castle. He would make it there by early afternoon – if he didn't get lost in the forest surrounding the castle – and be on his way home the following evening. Belle wasn't worried about being left home alone, she had lots of new moves to practice and, while Maurice had banned her from practicing too close to the house, she was planning on heading over the hill and through the woods that bordered the south of the village.


	2. Gaston

Gaston was not having a good day. The words Belle had quietly thrown in his face were still in his head and they weren't leaving any time soon. Not man enough for her! Why, he was Gaston! The best catch in all of France, he had muscles upon muscles and his teeth gleamed with whiteness – not a small feat in his times. The only man who was a better catch was the Prince and only because of his title, he wasn't known for his charming nature the way Gaston was, why people called him a beast!

Never satisfy her! BAH! He would show her! He just wasn't sure how he was going to do it.

LeFou, his faithful sidekick and loyal friend, had been speaking but Gaston had not been listening. And now that he'd noticed LeFou was talking, he'd also noticed the two girls on the bench whispering between each other as they glanced at him before blushing and giggling. He flashed a smile at the pair and they tittered and fanned themselves. Gaston walked a little straighter – Belle was wrong, he was a man and all the women in the village knew it. Ignoring LeFou completely, he sauntered over to the two girls and took the older one's hand.

'Ladies, how are you this fine morning?' He asked as he kissed each hand offered to him, their blushes deepening.

'We are well, Monsieur Gaston. We were just admiring the view out across the meadow.' The older one said. The younger stopped breathing for a second as she tried to control a sharp giggle.

'I much prefer the view within town.' Gaston replied, flashing them a full smile. 'May I walk with you ladies?'

'We would love to be accompanied by you.' And with much fluttering of eyelashes and shy-smiling, they each took an arm as he escorted them through the town towards the ribbon shop.

Ha! Not man enough! Gaston had these two ladies eating out of his palm, so why did Belle resist his charm so? And why did he keep thinking about that wretch of a girl, damn and blast it!


	3. Beast

While Gaston was busy charming the ladies of the town and repeatedly thinking of Belle, the lady in question hadn't once thought of him today. She was having a splendid time in the woods, alternatively reading, walking, running and jumping through the sunlit path in between the trees.

She had mud all over her skirt, her cheeks were flushed and several knives were buried in trees that had bullseye targets on them, she'd have to remember to go back for them later. It was starting to get dark and she knew that she should have started towards home at least an hour ago.

At that moment she thought she heard the sound of hoof-beats, but as far as she knew there were never any riders who came to the village from the South Forest. Unless she had run far enough to be on the side of the village that lead to the castle? The sound of hoof-beats got louder and suddenly Philippe thundered into the clearing, Belle shouted out for him to stop and flung herself at his reins. Where was her father!?

"Whoa, whoa, easy boy." Belle said to Philippe as she desperately searched for any sign of her father. There were the remains of the buggy still attached to Philippe's harness, but the buggy looked like it had been ripped off. What had happened? Was her father okay?

"Come on," she said to the horse as he began to calm down. "We better go and find my father." Before she jumped up into the saddle she detached the remains of the buggy and left them in the clearing. Belle knew that searching through the forest with the last of the light draining away, was not going to be easy. And it was probably dangerous. Thank goodness she had her knives, she thought as she reached down to check on them.

Belle was alarmed when she realised that the sheath was empty! She quickly checked the others and realised that she only had one left! She had forgotten to collect her daggers in her rush to get to her father. It was too late to go back for them now and Belle hoped that she wouldn't need them.

Philippe began to lead her towards the old castle. Although Belle longed for a true adventure, she had yet to venture towards the castle. In their old town, there had been a noble man who had captured the hearts of all the girls in the town. He had ruined the reputations of most of the young women and then left. He had been a vain, arrogant, selfish prick of a man and while, luckily, Belle had been too young to catch his eye, she had, had to listen to all the girls with broken hearts. It had given her a healthy distrust of nobility and of men in general.

As they got closer to the castle, she could hear the woods whispering. The area was notorious for wolves in the summer months and a sense of uneasiness was descending on her. Her father hadn't been attacked by wolves had he? Was she about to share the same fate? Cursing herself roundly for forgetting her weapons, Belle urged Philippe onwards despite her misgivings.

It was full night now, leaves that rustled in the underbrush made Belle jumpy and in turn it made Philippe twitch and snort, prancing about in anxiety. Belle had heard that the area surrounding the castle had been under a magical curse since the prince was just a boy and now her imagination (well rounded from her adventure-packed reading) was playing up and giving her impressions of figures standing, half-cloaked in shadow, by gnarled old trees.

She nearly jumped off of Philippe's back with fright as lightning struck off to the left and a half destroyed statue was revealed in the undergrowth. Trying to calm her racing heart and trembling hands, Belle brought Philippe back under control. What was she doing? This horse had already thrown one rider tonight!

"Father!" She shouted out into the night. Silence was her only answer as the rain began to fall and a growl of thunder rumbled across the land, spooking Philippe once more. She urged him forward through the driving rain, desperate for any sign of her father and ignoring the danger to herself.

Another flash of lightning lit up the sky and Philippe reared, Belle slipped from the drenched saddle and landed with a thump in a muddy puddle as Philippe galloped off further into the woods.

Bruised and limping, Belle picked herself up and cursed like a sailor as she waited for the pain to subside. Gingerly continuing on foot, Belle stumbled upon the remains of another statue and managed to stub her toe. That's it, she thought as the castle loomed ahead of her. She was going to go and see if anyone in the castle would shelter her from the storm and if they knew anything about her father.

And food. She really wanted some food.

The gate moaned as she pushed it open, it resisted, but Belle slipped through the gap it had left. It shut slowly behind her and clanged just as another bolt of lightning lit up the area. Belle could see that the grounds were unkempt and unloved. What a pity, she thought, she could imagine it in the sunlight, with roses growing all around.

Shivering in the rain, she began to make her way to what she presumed were the front doors. As she half ran through the rain, she hoped that poor Philippe was alright. It had been a ridiculous idea to just jump straight into the saddle and go out looking for her father. Now the towns folk would have no idea what had happened to the pair of them. At least Gaston couldn't find her out here though, she smiled at the thought.

As she reached the huge, gilded double doors, Belle noticed that they were slightly ajar, so instead of knocking, Belle did what any curious person would do. She stepped inside silently. Her wet shoes squeaked against the dry, waxed surface. She hesitated, fingers on her dagger, and listened to the sounds of the storm, straining her ears to hear anything moving within the castle.

Belle padded along the corridor, finding several doors standing ajar on either side. The hallway ended in a large space that held a grand staircase. It was what Belle had always imaged Pemberly to look like when Elizabeth first entered the house. At the top of the main stairs, it split off into two and they circled up the the first floor. Looking up, Belle could see that parts of the left wing had been damaged - paintings ripped and thrown from their original places, parts of the railings missing, great chunks ripped out of the wallpaper - while the right looked relatively untouched.

Where was everyone? Belle wondered as she headed towards the stairs.

'It's a girl! How could a girl have got into the castle?' Belle heard the whispered exclamation.

'Who's there?' She called out. 'I was thrown off my horse when I was looking for my father - have you seen him?' As the words came out of her mouth, Belle rolled her eyes at herself, how could they answer yes, they didn't even know who her father was or what he looked like.

A shuffling noise came from the way she had come, but try as she might Belle couldn't make out any shapes apart from a candelabra and clock. She waited for another minute, hoping that the voice would speak again. There was nothing but silence.

Disturbed, Belle started up the staircase. She wanted to go to the right, where the paintings were still on the wall and the carpet lay flat, but she knew that someone had been in the left hand wing - even though she was hoping it wasn't recently - so wouldn't it be her best bet?

Behind her came the muffled sounds of someone dragging something, then an odd clanking sound before all was quiet again. Belle swallowed. Maybe it was best just to leave, right now. But Philippe had led her towards the Castle, surely there was something or one here who could help?

Up ahead a candle suddenly flared into life. Belle jumped. She'd heard whispers that the castle was enchanted, what if it were true? What if the inhabitants were not as friendly as she hoped. Gathering up the last few remaining bits of her courage she walked up to the first floor. At the top she picked up the candelabra, noticing that there was another clock up here as well.

There was a dark stairwell that had, in a previous era of the castle, been covered by the tapestry that lay in tatters on the floor nearby. The candle flame seemed to almost bend towards the staircase and Belle slowly drew closer to it. She didn't want to go down there, but she had a feeling that it was where she needed to go.

A roar broke the silence of the castle and Belle jumped, almost screaming in fright, as she drew her dagger, backed herself into the wall and watched the shadow warily. In her terror she had dropped the candelabra, amazingly the candle was still lit and still pointed towards the dark staircase. With tears in her eyes, born out of fear, Belle timidly tip-toed towards the candelabra, dipped down to pick it up and quickly rose, brandishing it almost like a weapon.

With sweaty palms, Belle made it to the opening of the staircase and used the candle light to see where it led. The light didn't stretch very far and Belle tried to control her trembling chin and her need to cry. Where was her father? Why was the castle so empty? And what had made that terrible roar?

Dagger gripped tightly in her right hand, Belle put her best foot forward and slunk down the dark stairwell, keeping her back against the wall. Parts of the staircase had crumbled, that much Belle could see from the candle-light, giving the castle an even more haunted appearance than it had, had before.

Eventually, after what seemed like forever, Belle came up against a door at the bottom of the stairs. She'd passed numerous openings on the way down and the passageway had widened until it could have fit five men abreast, but here at the bottom was a locked double set of doors with nowhere else to go. Belle's fear, in the face of her frustration, finally began to dissipate. Standing in the near darkness, she kicked the door, annoyed at herself for getting into such a situation.

A low moan came from the other side of the door.

'Hello?' A weary voice called out. It was faint, but Belle still knew that it was her father's voice.

'Father!' She shouted back. 'I'm coming in to get you!'

Putting the candelabra down she inspected the door fitting, lifted the latched and tried pushing it. But it remained stubbornly shut. Belle sheathed her dagger, kicked the door and then rattled it, oblivious to the noise she was making and the candelabra watching with interest behind her. Two eyes had appeared beneath the flame that still burnt brightly and, with the curse in place upon the palace, the wick would never wear down.

Cursing, Belle rammed it with her shoulder, hard enough to make her wince. She did it again, and again. It popped open on her third try and with the the force that she'd put behind her, Belle fell through the doors and into the dungeon.

Scrabbling up from where she had fallen on the floor, she raced towards the cell that held her father, not noticing that the candelabra had moved so that she could still see well enough to find him. Bars separated her from her father and Belle scrambled to find a lock, anything, so that she could get him out of there. But Maurice was terrified that Belle was going to end up in a cell like him.

'You need to get out of here, Belle, before the Beast comes back.' He urged her.

'No. I'm not leaving you alone down here.' Belle replied, her voice steady as she searched for a solution, comforted by her father's presence. 'What do you mean Beast? Did you see any of the people who work or live here? The castle seems deserted.'

'Go, please Belle, I beg of you. Leave me here and go, get far away.' Maurice caught hold of Belle's wrists and forced her to look at him. Belle could see the fear in his eyes, fear for her.

'I'm afraid it's far too late for that.' A quiet, velvet voice said from the shadows. Belle freed her wrists and drew her dagger again.

'Let him go. Right now.' She ordered, not allowing fear to make her voice shake.

The man moved forward, becoming a shape that Belle could identify. But she couldn't, he was a mixture of who knew what, a beast, a deformed shape that horrified and shocked Belle right to her core, fangs that extended past his bottom lip, his features twisted and screwed up.

'No.' He said simply. Belle refused to back down or away, instead she lifted her chin and faced the monster head on.

'Release my father this instant, the village people know where we are and will be looking for us.' She was determined to walk away from this encounter, with her father at her side.

The beast laughed. It was a horrible sound, bitter and full of resentment. 'I very much doubt that you told anyone where you were heading. You are covered in mud, your dress is ripped and, if I am much mistaken, one of you ankles is bothering you. If you were looking for your father, as I heard you shout earlier, would you not have sent some of the men from the village to look for him? Isn't that what ladies do?'

Belle didn't have an answer, she knew that jumping straight onto Philippe's back had been a bad idea at the start, but now… Well she didn't regret finding her father, but she did wish she had brought back-up. No monster was going to take her seriously and with only one dagger, Belle didn't like to think how things were going to play out.

She glanced at her father, who had stayed silent during the conversation. His eyes pleaded for her to go, while she still could, but she had come this far, she wouldn't fail now. She took a step closer to the beast and wouldn't allow herself to take that step back when he took a large step forward. His wolf-like jaw meshed onto his face hideously, his looks were unforgiving, especially in the light of one candle casting shadows wherever Belle looked.

But for this Belle wanted him to be close, to underestimate her. She kept her dagger down by her side and away from his eyes. He took another step towards her, she had to crane her neck upwards to stare directly into his pale, hard, cold eyes.

Behind her, her dagger caught the light of the candle and winked off to the side.

'Master!' The candelabra cried as Belle surged forward, knocking the beast off his feet and pressing her dagger to his throat. The beast held up one enormous paw toward the candelabra, which had hoped closer to Belle and the beast. For the first time Belle noticed that the candelabra was enchanted and her grip on her dagger loosened. The beast noticed, but did not attempt to escape her hold. It was a chance he told himself, a chance to become the man he once was.

Belle caught herself quickly and pressed the dagger into his throat. 'Let my father go.' She ground out, jaw clenched.

The beast one the floor beneath her merely smiled. Grotesquely. 'But of course.' He said. Belle watched him suspiciously, she had an inkling that he could have thrown her off at any time and that he was amused by her behaviour. It fueled her anger.

'Then have your servant open the door and I will release you once he is safely out of the castle doors.' She ordered.

He laughed. 'Oh no, that won't do.' Belle pressed her dagger deeper into his neck, nicking the skin and watched coldly as blood began to drip to the floor. 'In order to have your father leave safe and unharmed. You must stay in his place.'

Belle didn't even consider the consequences. 'Yes.'

Within a second the beast had hauled her up off of the floor and had removed the dagger from her grip. 'Lumiere,' he said. 'See to it that this man leaves the castle this instant.'

Belle struggled in his grip, panic rising. 'No,' she ground out. 'He needs a horse, some way of getting home.' The beast ignored her but nodded to the candelabra, Lumiere, as he continued to drag Belle out of the dungeons.

'I want to say goodbye.' Belle yelled, hitting him for all she was worth to escape his grip. He let go so suddenly that Belle didn't move quickly enough before he scooped her up and put her over his shoulder.

He strode towards the door and then up the stairs as Belle watched the dungeon door disappear in the darkness.


End file.
